Honest when Drunk
by StarsOfYaoi
Summary: *FrUK, lemon* England should stop getting drunk. Waking up with a smug France at his side surely isn't how he wants his morning to begin. And surely France seducing him into sex isn't how he wants things to progress. Maybe.


**SOY:** I had mentioned posting here a FrUK lemon I've written a bit ago, and now I will. This is a pairing I do enjoy writing, but I'm so into Italy with everybody that I never have much attention to spare for other pairings. :P

Please do enjoy, but check the warnings before you start, cause I don't want responsibilities over this.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Rating**: R–18.

**Warnings:** male on male detailed, rough sex. Yaoi. Anal, some vague fluff at the end? England's potty mouth.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**Honest when Drunk**

**One–shot**

England was vaguely aware that someone was holding him, but the warmth around his shoulders was so comforting that he didn't really want to move, even less wake up; lulled by that feeling, England nuzzled close to the heat, allowing his mind to resurface from the depths of sleep.

Where was he?

The last thing he remembered was drinking, of course –he'd been at the pub… and then… he was ordering something, lifting his chin up to attract the attention of the bartender… then…

Then, France the idiot frog had popped up, sitting at his side…

England didn't really remember much else, apart the huge amounts of alcohol and the distinct feeling that something was wrong –that he shouldn't feel so…

When did he get home?

He could barely remember throwing insults at France, ignoring his wandering hands, and gulping down more than he should have… so…

Shifting a bit, England forced his tired eyes open, and the world around him focused after a couple of blinks, showing his room and a set of clothes thrown everywhere. Scrunching his nose in distaste, England sighed, knowing he'd need to move and dress up; he didn't really have anything pressing to do, but staying in bed, even after a hangover, wasn't something he usually did.

"Hmmm?"

England blinked. There was his shirt on the ground, visible from his position, then his pants and the socks and three shoes and…

Wait, three?

Something slithered on the skin of his stomach, startling him.

Slowly, terribly slowly, England's eyes widened in shock.

Oh, for the love of–

"_Bonjour, Angleterre_…" a murmur close to his ear.

England froze.

"_**Nooooooooooo**_!"

With a speed that could have rivalled an Italian running away in fright, England slapped the arms holding him away, jumping away from the bed and falling on the carpet almost face–down, scrambling away and standing up in a split second.

Slowly he turned around, dread caressing his brain, and there _he_ was –slouched on the bed as if he owned the place, half–covered by England's sheets, smug, lascivious smirk in place.

"Y–y–you!" England pointed, his finger trembling as he stepped backwards, too shocked to form a coherent thought. "What… when… w…"

"Oh, come on, no need to be surprised, _mon cher Angleterre,_" France chuckled, and England swore the shivers running down his arms were just of disgust.

It had been… what? A century that he'd had anyone in his bed? Probably more. It didn't help that last time it had been exactly the same person now smiling at him. England was a bad loser, and a bad drinker, but this was too much.

"What are you doing in my bed, you perverted frog!" refusing to move closer, fearing France would attempt to molest him (dear god, what _did_ happen?), England kneeled down to retrieve his pants first, eyes never leaving the sprawled figure.

"This is no way to thank me, Arthur" the way France rolled his name with his tongue had to be illegal in at least a nation. "I was the one who brought you here, after you passed out at the pub…"

England's cheeks turned completely red. "I… I… you…" stuttering didn't really help, either. "Why did you _stay_?"

The smirk he got as an answer was probably enough to send most nations running for their ass, but England was rooted on the spot.

"I was worried, of course" France purred, winking. "Besides, I have my morals, I couldn't just… leave you alone…"

"Morals! As if!" England, in the haste of pulling on his pants, wobbled dangerously close to the bed, and jumped away as soon as he noticed that detail. "You just wanted an easy fuck!"

The smirk faded, replaced with a frown, which was only partially hurt. "I would never take advantage of a drunken, passed out nation. You should know me better… I was waiting for you to wake up. And what a nice view I had" the smirk returned, carefully contained, although his lips were twitching in amusement. "You're quite the cuddly type. Seems like things don't really change with time".

Spluttering some more, England successfully tied his pants back on. "Get out from my bed! Anything you think you might get –you _won't_! You frigging _dick_!"

"Now, now, calm down, will you" France yawned, stretching his back and allowing the sheets to fall down from his midsection, exposing a very naked, very erect underneath.

England gasped, face reddening out of both shame and anger. How dare he… "Cover yourself properly!"

"There's nothing you haven't seen… or tasted… before" France's fingers reached down, barely brushing against the top of his erection, and the following shiver made England's mouth go dry. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid –he'd already bedded France more than once in the past, but with their current relationship going, he had no intentions of…

"Out!"

Francis smirked, and then he was standing, morning erection proudly bare for Arthur to gawk at. He wasn't truly successful at ignoring Francis because he lacked alcohol in his veins. And enough layers of clothes to feel secure.

"I wouldn't be there, you know" France advanced towards a frozen England with the determined stance of an old royalty "If it wasn't for your words, yesterday…"

England backed away, eyes darting around to check if he had anything to throw at France; unfortunately, the only things he could grab were his clothes and a chair, and although hitting the French with a chair sounded alluring, he was quite fond of his furniture.

"The fuck are you talking about" he growled, ready to fight with fist and teeth if things came down to that. The naked France was growing closer, but England refused to be intimidated in his own house. No matter the situation.

"You shouldn't remember, of course" France made a dismissing motion "you had enough alcohol in your body that you started sniffling and then laughing, and revealed things about your government that you should have just kept for yourself…"

England felt the flush on his cheeks turn darker, now out of shame towards himself.

It was true, when he went out drinking he usually ended up so wasted things started making any sense, and words just flew out of his lips, but he hadn't meant to… of course he couldn't have stated anything really important…

"But that's not actually it" France purred. He was far too close, and the familiar closeness was not helping England think.

Definitely, waking up close to France in the morning wasn't bound to end well…

"You said, I quote," Francis lifted his hands up, "I dun' really hat'ya, Fr'ns…" his smirk turned feral, his voice mimicking a slurred English dialect. "I act'lly like ya" he continued. He stepped forwards, and Arthur backed away again, promptly falling against the wall and cursing at his idiocy. "y' st'pid git, n't und'rstnding my f'lings…"

Really. He should have known better.

"I lie when I'm drunk" he hissed.

France was closer now, ruffled blond hair almost brushing against England's chin, and hands pressed against the wall at his sides. "Is that so…?"

"Of course!"

"Is that why you tried to grope me… in the pub?" another purr, France face coming closer.

England let out a scandalised gasp. "I– I didn't!"

Unfortunately, the lecherous smirk of France said an entirely different story.

That was the perfect time for a lightening to come in the room and strike the Englishman in all its fury, but of course nothing happened…

"I didn't mind, _Angleterre_" England had to gasp again, because now the French was pressed against him and –_dear god, was that his naked __**erection**__ hard against his own groin–_

"O–of course you didn't mind, you sodding–"

France interrupted England's next tirade by leaning down to lick the other's lips slowly, trailing his tongue to gently slip between them, touching his teeth. The shudders running through England's body were enough of a telltale for France to know the other didn't really mind this.

"Away!" hands were on his shoulders, pushing him away from the hot body, but France simply allowed his smile to turn a slightest bit feral.

"Why?" he asked, one hand already back on the other's body.

"Because– that's _you_, and I don't want to– and" it was growing harder to concentrate, with France's hands wandering lower… "No! Things like these won't work–"

"Let's face it –it has been a while since you've lastly had sex, _non_?" Francis leaned forwards again, still hard. "I'm conveniently here, and I've been waiting for an opening to which you couldn't be able to oppose…"

'_Fucking bast–'_

And yet, Arthur's hostility was mainly centred on his words of hatred that kept Francis away enough that he couldn't realise the Englishman was lying. Their fights were satisfying for both of them, and Arthur thought that would be enough.

He wouldn't allow anything more to happen between them _anymore_.

It just… it couldn't work. If he had… any feelings, well, they didn't matter. It wouldn't be enough, not with _Francis_.

"Shove your dick up someone else's ass, 'cause mine's definitely not up for it" he yelled, pushing harder.

Francis stumbled backwards, but his smirk had yet to fade from his lips. Arthur stomped aside, cheeks flaming red and feeling that the French's closeness from before had done more damage than he'd thought –in his pants, hastily put on, he was sporting an erection.

Leering, France seemed to know exactly what had happened, because instead of backing down, as he would have done in the past, he moved forwards again, grabbing England's wrist and pressing his other hand on his groin.

England stiffened and flushed harder, stifling a groan as the hand pressured over his sensitive zone.

"A–away!"

"_Angleterre_" there he was again, with his purring… England fought the urge to close his eyes. That was _his_ name pronounced so lewdly, and in such a situation it did him no good. "_Je ressens la même chose pour toi_".

England's eyes widened. Despite his staged hatred for the other, despite his snorts when the French spoke in his own language, England knew how to speak it, and could actually understand it well.

And what France had just said…

"W… you… what…"

The arms enveloping his chest were not batted away, as he was far too much shocked to do that, and only reacted when the same hands groped his chest, bringing him flush against France's body.

"N– wait you bloody–"

"_Non, Arthur_," France's voice was a low, rumbling purr as he leaned forwards, staring into his eyes. "For once, be honest with yourself, hmmm? I'll have you _till you cannot stand anymore_…"

England's last restraint snapped at that –spinning around he threw himself in France's arms, trembling and needy already. France's eyes widened in surprise, having not expected such strong reaction, but quickly resumed control, slamming England against the wall and joining their lips together.

"All words… a–and no actions, _bloody frog_" England hissed between kisses.

England and France wildly fought for dominance, tongues meeting and lapping at each other, France nibbling at England's lips, pulling on the skin and kissing him again, hands doing a quick job of ripping the other's pants away.

Arthur pushed his own away with a kick, one leg wrapping around one of Francis', forcing their naked groins together, arms coming to hold the French's shoulders as he felt his leg tremble, already far too aroused to even think anymore.

Francis growled possessively, one arm holding him close, the other slipping behind to grope at his ass, fingers rubbing at the skin in delight, feeling its firmness.

"This is mine" he hummed, leaning forwards to kiss Arthur again, robbing him of his breath. The English was already trembling –it had been far too long since the last time, and he was this close already… "_You_ are mine" Francis continued, his voice turning into a low, possessive growl.

England felt his member twitch at those words, and let out a soft moan, eyes meeting those of the French, raw and demanding. "Y–you might want to get on with it, I am not sure how long I'll last if you keep that up…"

A chuckle was his only answer before he felt long, skilled fingers wrap around his erection, tugging at it with no mercy.

England arched his back, pressed against the wall and France's strong body, fingers involuntarily clenching on the other's shoulders, groaning before busying himself with sucking a wet spot on his neck, shivering when France's fingers tightened even more.

"N–nnnn… Francis… s–stop… I don't think I can…"

France's other hand slipped between his buttocks, and England stiffened again, the burning sensation in his groin doubling in intensity as a finger slowly, _torturously_, slid up and down between his cheeks, massaging his cleft, then lower, barely brushing against his balls–

"I've barely started, there's no need to restrain yourself anymore… come for _me_, Arthur…"

A thumb pressing down on the tip of his erection…

England arched his back and let go, coming without control, groaning in satisfaction and slumping in France's arms, panting and wheezing as France's hand kept tugging at his length, the other parting his buttocks and barely passing through the tight ring of skin and muscles.

"Fr–France… ah…"

"Oh, Arthur…" his name rolled in France's mouth made England feel ravenous again "so tight… it's been so long…"

"It has" his voice hesitant now, England looked at the French, but all of his uncertainty was washed away by the sheer desire and hunger he saw reflected on his face.

Growling, England threw himself at France, lips hungrily meeting again, tongues dancing out to fight, teeth and lips clashing; backing away towards the bed, France pulled England with him, the back of his knees hitting the mattress and falling down. England toppled down on top of him, legs on either part of France's body as his hands groped at all the skin they could, mouth sucking on his neck, tasting his skin…

With a drawn–out moan, Francis bucked his hips upwards, hands cupping Arthur's ass again, spreading his cheeks, rubbing their erections together in a frenzy as he put all his kissing skills at use to paint as many red spots on the Englishman as he could.

They rolled around, France on top, and England found himself pushed down on the mattress face–down, a tongue expertly tracing circles on his back. He was growing hard again, but it wasn't that difficult, with the French's scent all around him, filling his nostrils, like a natural aphrodisiac…

"G–get it on with it, Francis" he growled, unwilling to let himself be seen so vulnerable, especially by France, of all people –no matter what had transpired, his pride was still there.

"Oh, _mais non_, Arthur…" a purr, tongue lapping lower, at the small of his back "I want to enjoy this…"

Warm fingers spread his cheeks again, and England had only that warning before France's tongue slithered there, hot and squirming.

"Ah!"

Gripping the bed sheets with all his strength, England threw his head backwards, panting and feeling his member harden even more, pressing desperately against the sheets.

The warm tongue lapped at his hole, lavishing it with attention whilst one hand fondled his balls, giving soft, gentle pats at them that had England hide his face in the pillow to stop himself from moaning loudly.

The feeling… and France, oh, he did remember everything about his body. The thought that despite all these years apart, the French still knew every spot to stimulate was enough of for England to almost come again.

"_Non_, Arthur" Francis purred, stopping his wonderful display of ability, "I want to hear you…"

"S–stupid idiot! L–like I wou… ah…" Biting down on his lower lip, England squirmed in France's hold. He knew that the louder, the happier France was, but he refused to…

"_Je ressens la même chose pour toi_".

France's words echoed in his mind, serious and honest.

Flushing crimson, needy and embarrassed, heart fluttering like a damn butterfly, England struggled to push upwards, coming to stand on all four, and when France resumed his ministrations, his tongue closer and closer to bringing him to completion again, the Englishman threw away his pride and bucked his hips, moaning loudly, concentrating on the feeling of the tongue slipping past his muscles…

"Fuck –yes!"

With a chuckle that almost made him lose his composure, Francis pushed his tongue further in, feeling the enticing way England's muscles cramped around it.

'_Oui, mon amour'_ he thought, his own erection shivering in pleasure. _'Just like this…'_

France's hand caressed the underneath of his length, thumb tracing the slit and rubbing it, fingers holding onto it and feeling it harden as with his other hand he blindly reached out for the nearby bedside table, where he'd previously put his lube.

Popping it open, he coated his free hand's fingers in the slippery, cold lotion and looked up from the delicious ass in front of him, glancing at the flushed and wanton face of the Brit.

Yes, and it was all _his_.

"Get it on, git" England rasped out between pants, turning to look at the damn French who was staring at him with a possessive, lusty look that sent him trembling again.

He blamed it mostly on the last century of sexual inactivity, not to any kind of attached feelings he might have had… but of course the thought didn't last. Not with France looking at him like that.

Snorting at the lack of patience from his England, France pulled up, dropping a trail of kisses down the other's back, feeling him shiver when he reached the bottom of his spine; he still remembered how that sole spot had the value of an erogenous zone for the British, and he lapped at it, teasing the small, usually uncared for region, nibbling at it and sucking it until it was red.

Arthur's reaction was immediate –he arched his back, face falling back into the pillow as he moaned unashamedly, fine tremors racking his body as he humped down on the bed.

Using this distraction, Francis pushed the first finger inside, expertly wiggling its way in, brushing skin and loosening up the tense muscles; Arthur kept moaning loudly, cursing in–between gasps the more the French pushed inside.

"Ah–damn you… haaa… more… you fucking… _hnnnnn_"

France pushed a second finger in, scissoring and fighting against the clenched muscles, groaning as he knew he would be sheathed inside very soon.

So tight –two fingers barely fit, and France had to stop himself from groaning loudly.

With two fingers in, it was easier to reach further inside, and with dedication not unlike him, France started rubbing at all the inner skin, knowing he'd reached England's prostate when the other nation nailed the headboard, trying to get away from his probing fingers.

"Ah… Francis! T–there… n–no! It's too…"

"As sensitive as usual, _mon amour_…" he hummed, mercilessly slamming his fingers back in.

The combination of his words and the motion had England clutching at anything he could in order to keep his sanity intact, especially when France kept moving his fingers, not allowing him a second to come to terms with the pleasure now eating him inside out.

Every thrust made stars appear behind close eyelids, pleasure travelling inside him without control…

It was burning –unable to escape, Arthur clutched at the pillow, biting down onto it to keep from yelling, tears running down his cheeks. It was so –_**good**_

"No, _Angleterre_… you're not allowed to muffle your screams…"

Halting his motions, France slithered upwards, pressing England's body down on the mattress and taking the pillow away from weakened arms; he pressed trails of kisses down to his neck, fingers still lodged inside, and retracted when England tried to turn around.

"You d–damn… exhibitionist…"

For his words, England received a smirk as a reply, and soon enough the motions started again, making him forget everything about it.

He yelled as his prostate was hit again and again, pushing back onto the probing fingers until the pace was fast and continuous, pleasure curling inside him, choking him, burning his lungs and making him need more…

"N… S–stop… Francis…" barely able to form a coherent thought, England tried vainly to stop France, who was clearly enjoying the show. "I need… _you_… inside… the fingers aaah… are not _enough_…"

France stilled his motions, feeling his erection twitch, and it was only sheer will that prevented him from coming.

Quickly he turned England around, parting his legs to admire at the engorged erection jutting upwards, leaking precum and twitching, needy and red. He had plans on tasting more, on getting his fill and then some more, but he knew he'd teased England enough for the moment.

"Stop staring a–at me and fuck me already, you frog!" cheeks flaming red, England swatted his arm with an unsteady hand, looking to the side. "You better keep your promise!"

A cheeky, almost silly smile appeared on France's face and almost stole England's breath away. "Of course, _mon cher_… a promise is a promise, indeed…"

Then he was pushing in, erection way bigger and thicker than the fingers had been, and it was stretching him– England choked on his breath and clutched at France's chest, gasping out, eyes wide, a trail of saliva rolling down his chin as he was filled to accommodate the French.

Big, familiar, hard and filling him completely, to the point he could barely breath, barely _think_, only push down as well, seeking more…

"Oh… yes… so tight… Arthur…" Francis threw his head backwards, shivering and shifting his hips experimentally, shoving higher up Arthur's legs and biting down on his shoulder, trying to keep himself from moaning too loudly.

Yes, it was just as tight as he remembered –just as hot, England's body fitting against his own just like in the past.

England had kept himself shy of sex for too long, but France appreciated the fact, after all.

"Is it ok for me to move, Arthur?" he asked, barely able to stay still now that he was _inside_–

"Ah… ah… i–if you don't m–move… now… aaaah… I swear… I'll… sever your head…"

Clenching his inner muscles, England shifted to hold the French against himself, leaning forwards to nibble at his collarbone, determined in leaving as many hickeys as he could.

France gasped, eyes fluttering close as he enjoyed the tightness around his erection, making his brain hum in pleasure, and those lips on his neck, in a vain attempt at controlling something at least…

The next second, he was pushing out almost completely… only to slam right in.

England let out a loud curse as he felt France shift above him, starting off with a fast, heavy pace and not allowing him to come to terms with the length inside him, hot and hard, and–

"_Ahhhhh_! Yes! Yes! Fuck, yes!"

And there was just pleasure cursing through him, burning with every push and shove, as if his skin was being lit on fire, as if his insides were burning on an incandescent fire, fingers tingling and clenching on France's arms, nails digging into the skin and causing him to moan at the added kink.

He'd missed it –all nerves of his body were screaming in pleasure, Francis' scent everywhere, his body sweaty and hard against his own, being fucked through the mattress–

Eyes rolling in the back of his head, England let his voice grow louder and louder, every time France slammed back in causing all his nerves to short circuit, demanding more and more.

It was…

"More! Damn you– h–harder…. Aah… yes… Francis, _harder_!"

Shoved to his side, England gasped as France pushed his legs even wider, one still hoisted over his shoulder, the other pressed against the sheets, and pushed in _harder_, almost painfully hitting his prostate–

Lips devouring his own, fingers jerking him off, tweaking his nipples, coming to grip around his waist, massaging that _spot_…

England's hands found a tight grip on the headboard above his head, nails digging in the wood, hoisting upwards to meet the uneven thrusts, bruised lips parting to yell again, a mix of curses and needy groans that spurred France on–

Then arms circled England's waist, and much to his shock, France was lifting him upwards and out of the bed, and his weight made him impale himself further on France's length–

"_Goddamn fucking_–"

His back collided with the wall, and he grasped at the closer surface for help, nailing the wall with one hand as Francis continued shoving in, strong arms keeping him up.

Reflexively, England tightened his inner muscles, free arm clenched around France's neck, and pushed down his body, once again meeting the rhythmic thrusts, lips seeking out those of the French. Everything blurred down into motions again, until England didn't know to whom the yells of pleasure belonged to, far too busy holding on the other's shoulders, riding his pleasure higher and higher–

"Francis… d–damn you…"

Clinging at the French's body with all his remaining strength, England bit down on France's neck, sucking on the juncture and closing his eyes as he felt himself reach completion, and had no warning of one of France's hands wrapping around his erection before he came.

France observed, eyes wide open, as England convulsed in his arms, cheeks flushed, pressed so completely against him that they could only breath each other, sticky wetness coating their stomachs, and with a possessive growl he moved away from the wall, still firmly lodged into England's ass, hand fumbling with the door and into the corridor.

The Englishman rode his orgasm yelling against France's neck, burning and satisfied, head spinning and sight blurring until there was nothing else but skin and white.

"Ah… F–Francis…?" England tried to hold on to him, shocked to feel France had yet to come, but he wasn't given time to recover that he was turned around again, hands on a cool, smooth surface, and found himself staring into his own mirror reflection. "W…"

He looked up, meeting France's eyes reflected on the clean surface (one of his old, enormous mirrors he kept in his storeroom), filled with lust yet to be satisfied, and groaned.

"Y–you lecherous… ahnnn…" the new position, with France pounding him from behind, sent England's already sensitised nerves short–circuiting, and the fact that he could see France's face in the mirror, needy, flushed and panting, had England shamefully hard again in seconds. "God… s–so good…"

France chuckled breathlessly, slamming in, aiming for England's abused prostate again "_oui_… you can call me that, if you wish…"

Clinging at the mirror, England couldn't do anything more than holding onto dear life as France showed no signs of restraint, his pace still as strong as before, managing to whisper words of encouragement and praise in England's ears with each shove.

"You're so hot, Arthur…" a tongue tracing his ear, hot breath on his sweaty skin– "Look at you… such an enticing look… spread for me, moaning my name, flushed and sexy…"

"Ah… aaah, damn you…. _Nnnnngh_…"

England's nails dug in the wood of the frame, hoisting himself up, eyes unable to leave France's reflection, caught by his eyes darkened by lust and–

It was burning inside him again, stronger and dangerously close to stop his heart, and he moaned, shaking in France's grip, almost sobbing, almost…

"F–Francis… I'm… I…" so close, so–"

Leaning forwards, flush against England's back, France gently kissed his cheek, whispering something in his ear.

Eyes widening in shock, England arched his back as he felt another orgasm burn his conscience away, everything exploding into white as he slumped into France's hold, barely conscious.

France groaned and finally allowed himself to come, biting down on the back of the other man's neck to muffle a long, satisfied groan, one hand pressed against the wall to prevent slumping on the floor, spent and weakened by the strength of his orgasm.

Slickened with semen, France's now limp length slipped out from England, both of them groaning at the sensation.

"Did I keep my promise, Arthur?" France purred, gathering the trembling body in his hands and wobbling back to the bedroom, wrapping a blanket around them.

England let out an incoherent mumble, already unconscious.

France chuckled, holding him close, and repeated what had caused the British to come so suddenly the third time, before closing his eyes as well.

"_Je t'aime, Angleterre"._

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

**SOY:** I hope this didn't seem too much like a PWP…

Now, for some translations…

_Bonjour, Angleterre_ – good morning, England

_Mon cher_ – my dear

_Je ressens la même chose pour toi_ I feel the same for you

_oui, mon amour_ – yes, my love

_Je t'aime_ – I love you


End file.
